


Spring's Treacherous Luck

by MissTantabis



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Adventure, M/M, Slice of Life, Slight Romance and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTantabis/pseuds/MissTantabis
Summary: Remembering the offer John Childermass gave him, Jonathan Strange uses another nice spring weather to ask the servant of his teacher to go for a ride with him. Childermass happily agrees, however their trip with their horses takes an unexpected and drastic turn.





	1. An old offer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bryonyashley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryonyashley/gifts).



> This story is a follow-up to Splintered Hooves. I advice you to read this one first.

Spring had brought another beautiful day to London. A chilly breeze was playing with the green leaves and the flowers that grew in the parks. The air was rich of the scents of them, the chirping of the birds and the talk of people. The sky had a fair blue tone and only a few, fluffy white clouds disturbed it.

Many people took the time to take a walk and stretch their legs and limbs. The winter was slowly melting from the bones it had settled itself in. It fled from houses, rooftops and the ground like an evil ghost, leaving a general comfortableness, happiness and freshly sprouting grass behind it. It woke young men’s heart and filled it with the desire to explore beyond the horizon and return with a trophy for their lady.

Jonathan Strange was standing in the stable of his home. Like all stables in London’s city centre they were usually in the courtyard, behind the façades. Sure some people kept their horses in a rant stable, however these were not the ways of a Gentleman. Especially since the conditions in most rant stables were dreadful. The places were usually dark, some stable boys had no idea of what they were doing, and illnesses and diseases could easily plague the animals. Moreover anyone who needed a horse could rant it there.

No, if a Gentleman owned a horse himself, he kept said horse in a stable of his own and the stable of Jonathan Strange was a fine example. While it was only meant for two horses, it was large and wide. The boxes were big enough that the horses could turn around and even lay down if they wanted to, instead of needing to be tied as it was usual. The straw in the boxes got changed by the stable boys once a day and was soft and comfortable. The windows in the hall were tall and wide, letting the daylight in. Jonathan even picked the food for the mare and the stallion himself.

While Mr. Strange had very little interest in the running of an estate (his father had not called him a never-do-well for nothing), there was one thing he had shown a clear passion for, even in his early ages. And that something had been horses. Jonathan had always admired the hunters he had seen in the distance on horseback as a little boy. Sometimes when they had been in London, his mother would take him to the horse races. She knew a lot about these fascinating creatures and was more then willing to answer Jonathan’s questions on them. Thanks to her, he knew the difference between a cart horse, a crossbred horse and a thoroughbred. He knew what purpose they were bred for, he knew how a proper rider had to handle a horse, he knew what food was good or bad for them.

Felix had been the best gift his mother had ever given to him. The stallion was a slender crossbred horse, had a long neck and a gleaming white fur. His eyes were open and had a lovely maroon shade. His muscles was well formed and pulsated under the warm skin. He really was a beauty. Mrs. Strange had been rather surprised when he had explained that the stallion should be called Felix. But then his mother had nodded upon his choice, quite pleased. “The Lucky One” was indeed a nice name for a horse. And Felix had made Jonathan very lucky. More lucky then he could probably express.

Jonathan was standing in his box and carefully brushed over the neck with a soft brush. While he did those long and calm movements, the usually so energetic man fell strangely silent. He was pondering over the events that had happened a few days ago. During a stroll he had taken, Felix had accidentally stepped a stone into his hoof. While Strange of course had noticed it, the hotheaded stallion had refused to give him his hoof so he could get the stone out. Luckily for Jonathan, John Childermass, Mr. Norrell’s servant, had crossed ways with him and had managed to get the stone out.

Jonathan kept brushing Felix and his gaze slowly wandered down the long, slender leg. It was no longer bandaged for the small wound caused by the stone had healed quite well. Still Strange had to admit: Childermass had impressed him in this moment. He had shown skill, but also great care and compassion when he had approached Felix. Despite the horse having never met him before, it had reacted to his touch and words positively and allowed the Yorkshireman to remove the stone.

Such tenderness and calmness. Jonathan would never have expected Childermass to be like this when he had first met him. He had been sitting by the table, watching the conversation; a dark, ragged figure, horrendous to look at and with a frightening appearance, pale faced, gloomy, black eyes and strands of black locks. Really, if Strange had to imagine this man anywhere, he would probably fit really well into Bram Stoker’s  _ Dracula _ , lurking in some dark alleyway. Heck, if Jonathan had to give him the role of a novel figure, he would have placed him in the position of the vampire Count himself.

However Childermass had proven himself to be kind and gentle, surprisingly so. He was honest and calm. As a servant he did his duty with utmost precision, however Jonathan could not help but see him disobey a few orders every now and then. Yet he was sure, the Yorkshireman never meant to harm someone with this brief disobedience. He was more experienced then Strange, which the other one had soon found admirable.

After Childermass had cleared Felix’s hoof of this stone, he and Mr. Strange had ridden home, side by side. During this they had begun to converse over one simple subject. Horses. Apparently both man loved these animals and both man enjoyed riding them. At the end of the ride, Jonathan had somehow mustered up the guts to ask Childermass if he could consider to accompany him on such a ride. To which the Yorkshireman had said yes.

As Strange pondered this somehow still open offer, his look graced the windows outside. The sunshine made his eyes blink. It looked warm and generally friendly. Perfect riding weather. Felix shifted his position upon the straw and snorted quietly. It almost felt like the horse knew what was on his owner’s mind and tried to persuade him to follow his idea.

Jonathan thoughtfully bite on his lips. He definitely wanted to take a ride now, but his mind circled around Childermass’ last words.  _ “Mr. Strange, if I find the time, I will gladly accompany you on a small ride out of town.” _ It was the first time Strange had met someone, who seemed to know as much about horses as he did. Someone, who shared the same passion. And Childermass had clearly offered to be his companion during his next ride. 

Then why was he hesitating? Because Childermass was a servant! And not even his own servant. Not just any servant, but the man of business of Mr. Norrell. Jonathan Strange’s teacher! He could not just go to Hannoversquare and ask Childermass if he could come with him for a while. Childermass had a job to do after all! In fact was it not even against the etiquette to ride out with a servant for fun? After all Jonathan was not out to get something. He just wanted to take a ride.

So why did it happen that the one person who could probably be his match in riding was a servant?! It was not that Jonathan had something against servants, far from it. Strange was treating servants with a respect most gentlemen were lacking. It often gave him some odd side glances by richer people, but he did not bother. Still, Jonathan could not bring himself to go to Hannoversquare and ask Norrell if it was fine for him when his pupil and his servant took a ride together. Because honestly he had no idea how he could justify his action.

“Ah, there you are.” Jonathan turned his head when the voice called behind him. It belonged to a fair woman with a smooth, beautiful face. Her dark ebony hair was tied up, hidden underneath a small, pale yellow hat. She wore a long, deep red dress, around her shoulders a woollen, orange scarf. A small smile played around her lips and the deep, dark sea of her eyes sparkled.

Jonathan gave her a loopsided grin in return and rose a hand as if to wave. “Hello, Arabella”, he replied. Unlike his wife, Strange’s hair was curly and wild, had a slight red shade over the brown. He was wearing a white shirt, over it a brown vest and a black trouser. His boots were slightly covered in mud, which had dried down.

Arabella Strange slowly walked into the stable. The mare was pushing her head over the door of her box and softly snorted. She had a brown head with a blackish brown mane. Her coat was covered in white and brown patches, the chest brown, while her flanks were mostly fair. Her mane was as multi shaded as her coat.

Arabella stopped by her and softly caressed her head, tickling her behind the ear. “What are you up to, Jonathan?”, she asked. He gave a weak laugh. “Who says I am up to something?”, responded the man and placed the brush away. He turned around to look at his wife.

Arabella rose one of her smoothly drawn eyebrows. “I do”, she responded, “You have been in here for quite some time. And the weather looks very good. If I did not know you better, you would have been on Felix’s back and waved me goodbye half an hour ago. So what keeps you waiting? You do intend to take a ride, right?”

Jonathan nodded. He dropped the brush into the basket. “Yes, I intend to do that”, he answered. The Second Magician caught side of his wife, still standing by her own horse. They both made a beautiful sight. Jonathan tried to recall if he and Arabella had ever taken a ride together. If so, it must have been years ago. If he and Arabella were to ride today, he would not have to ask Childermass!

Jonathan moistened his lips. “Hey, Arabella”, he asked evasively, “Would you like to accompany me on a ride outside of town? The weather is beautiful. A woman should not stay inside during such a time.” He gave her a loopsided, dorky grin. Arabella smiled, chuckling quietly. She looked down for a couple of seconds, blinking.

“I would love to, Jonathan”, his wife responded, “But I am afraid I have a few things to do. Since Mary broke a few eggs, I decided to go to the market myself today. Besides a woman does not take rides. However I can make you some supplies so you won’t go hungry over lunch time.” Jonathan nodded and clapped his hands. “That sounds great”, he called and after a brief moment of thinking he added, “Ehm, Arabella, could you consider making a bit more?”

***

Felix was slowly making his way through London’s street. Jonathan felt the horse’s body move from side to side as he balanced himself in the saddle. It was not a really long trip from his house to Hannoversquare and yet Strange caught himself riding extra slow. If Felix could have moved backwards while still moving forwards, the magician probably would have made him done it.

His gaze was directed at the horse’s white mane and the reins in his hands. Jonathan’s brows were furrowed, he caught himself moistening his lips as he kept pondering his idea. The saddlebags were heavy. Arabella had indeed made him more then he needed. It was enough for two people. As if she had known what he had intended to do.

So why was he pondering his idea all over again? What was he afraid of? That Childermass would groan and shake his head in disbelief? That Mr. Norrell would get angry? No, no, no. This offer had been a terrible idea. Where had been his head? Why had he made it in the first place? Just because they both liked horses? Because Jonathan wished to have some company?

_ Typical, Strange, just typical. You did something irrational without a second thought. _ He could slap himself for the words that had left him in an odd stammer during their ride a few days ago. Jonathan’s talent of getting himself into stupid situations and even dangerous ones without wanting it could be really annoying from time to time. And now he felt like he was in a tie: Should he just ride past the house? Pretend like he had never made the offer? But what if Childermass was standing by the window and saw him riding past him? He would be one impolite person!

Jonathan angrily tucked at the reins. He now stood before the house in Hannoversquare. Enough of his foolish pondering!  _ The more you think, the more you worry. _ That was his principle. Rather go into a situation without thinking and deal with the consequences, hammering down in front of you, instead of hesitating and wavering like some old woman! Besides the worst thing that could happen in this case would be Norrell saying No. So how bad could it be?

Jonathan jumped down the horseback. With determined steps he approached the door of the small, tall and narrow house. Creme walls. Windows, hidden behind green curtains. There was a small, copper ring to knock against the door. Jonathan took said ring with middle- and forefinger and knocked twice.

The door opened and a small footman, wearing a green vest, his hair tied in a clean ponytail, opened the door. “Good morning, Mr. Strange”, Davey said and opened the door wider. “Morning, Davey.” Strange sauntered past him. Crossing the small lobby, he headed straight towards the library for the chance was nine out of ten that Mr. Norrell and probably Childermass were in this room.

He did not get disappointed. The library was a small room. Almost all green walls were covered by bookshelves, which contained many magical volumes (from which Jonathan had barely read a quarter). Through two windows came the light of the day. A breeze gently moved the curtains. There was no fire in the chimney and all candles were put out and frozen in their place, white and orange wax.

Two tables stood in the room. One large and dark one before the mirror. On it was a pile of books, papers and quill. Strange chuckled in amusement. Norrell would never miss out one minute to study and write something down he found interesting. He was a small man, ridiculously tiny compared to Jonathan and a bit round and podgy. His small eyes behind a pair of glasses were directed at the pages before him, his small, rosy hands sorted them quickly and precisely. His white wig had not been powdered that much, but it still sat nicely on his head.

Jonathan coughed a bit louder. “Excuse me, Sir”, he said. Mr. Norrell looked up, let out a call of surprise and almost dropped his papers. “Mr. Strange!”, he called, “Why did you not tell me you were coming today? I thought, you had intended to take this day off. Quite ridiculous if you may hear my view. After all there is no such thing as too much studying. There is always something else one can discover in the pages of a book. One more detail one had missed. Which I am sure you now realized yourself. Why else would you have come here to accompany me on this beautiful day? We could read a few books on weather spells maybe or...”

“Actually”, Jonathan had to rise his voice in order to cut the other man short, “That’s not why I came here.” Norrell’s smile dropped and he tilted his head in confusion. “Why did you come here then?”, he asked in clear surprise. As if he could not believe his partner was not sharing the same desire to study here with him!

Jonathan swallowed thickly. Now the moment had come. He had to ask the one question. Scratching his neck and avoiding eye contact, Strange began: “Well, I was wondering… Since it is such a beautiful day I wanted to take a ride. And I was wondering….I was hoping… that’s if it not too much for you to ask off, I can entirely understand if you say no… But could you consider, if you believe you could go for a day without him, could he then… ?”

“Get to the point, Mr. Strange, you are not an essay.” The raspy, hoarse voice came from the left side of the door. Jonathan turned his head and exhaled slowly in relief. There like flesh become shadows stood the man he had been brooding over for the last hours. John Childermass was a tall, horrendous figure with his dark clothing and the pale, gloomy face. Black strands hung around the dark eyes that focussed upon Strange with a certain knowing. Childermass’ hands were behind his back and his head slightly bopped forwards as he watched the odd conversation unfold.

His appearance was like the sword towards the Gordian Knot. The confusion in Jonathan disappeared. He looked between the servant and the magician. Now he suddenly was calm, oddly calm. What is the worst that could happen? Jonathan turned towards Norrell and the words left his mouth with surprising ease: “May Childermass be permitted to accompany me during my ride out of town? We will be back before it gets dark.”

Norrell looked god-smacked. He blinked rapidly. Childermass rolled his head on his shoulder and smiled. His black gaze found his master as he waited. “I...I do not know how you come up with such an idea”, said Norrell, “And what if I need you, Childermass? You organise almost the entire household. What if everything falls apart once you are gone.”

His steps were swallowed by the carpet as Childermass approached both man. “Mr. Norrell”, he responded, “Mr. Strange does not intend to take a long journey. Just a small ride in the fields outside of London. I would be gone only for an afternoon. And usually during this time you read, so you will hardly require my presence and service.”

Jonathan nodded and added hastily to strengthen their argument: “Moreover the weather outside is wonderful. And I really would love some company during this ride. I would have asked Arabella, but my wife sadly is busy. You know, how women get, Sir. They always have some work to do. And really if you need to know it, I only intend to ride through the forest, maybe follow the river’s flow and then we would return instantly. It’d be a tour of three hours, maybe less.”

Norrell still looked uncertain. Childermass stated casually: “Besides Davey knows the routine. So even if we take longer, there won’t be any disturbance in your day.” The older man sighed. He looked up at the other two man. Shaking his head, he muttered: “Fine. Mr. Strange, go and take Childermass with you before I change my mind.” Waving a hand almost dismissively at Childermass, he turned around and walked over to his chair to disappear behind his book once more.

The Yorkshireman and the Second Magician of England made their way out of the house at Hannoversquare. Jonathan carefully took Felix’ reigns and gently pulled him in the direction of Norrell’s stables, in which Childermass had disappeared into. The stable was smaller then Jonathan’s. Brewer and Constantine were tied in their boxes. One window of a medium size flooded the room with brown, dizzy light, the dust dancing in the air.

Next to Brewer’s box Lucas was cleaning Constantine’s straw. The man was younger then Childermass and Strange, had short, brown hair and wore brown, simple clothing. The quiet clonk of his pitchfork was the only sound that could be heard, intermixed with his quiet pants. Childermass was approaching Brewer. The black, ugly stallion pushed his head forwards and snorted gently. The Yorkshireman cooped his nostrils and smiled.

“’Ello, Sirs”, Lucas said and looked up. He placed the hay fork into the stag of hay before him. He watched Jonathan and Childermass, who slowly lead his horse out of the box. While the dark Yorkshireman prepared the saddle, Lucas approached him. “What do you intend to do, Childermass?”, he asked.

Childermass pulled the saddle a bit tighter and explained: “Mr. Strange would like to be accompanied on a ride by me. I probably will be back in the late afternoon.” He took a hold of the edge of the saddle and with a quiet groan swung on the horse’s back. “However should I not come for any reason, Davey has the command as usual.” Lucas nodded shortly.

The Yorkshireman turned his horse and trotted towards Jonathan. Halting, he watched the other magician climb on Felix’ back. At this moment Lucas called: “Childermass! Mr. Strange!” Both turned their heads. “Yes?”, asked John calmly. “You should be careful”, the coachman stated worriedly, “It is thaw. The roads and grounds can get treacherous.”

Strange smiled. “Do not worry, Lucas”, he proclaimed, “We will be careful. Besides it is not the first time that I road out on thaw. So what is the worst that could happen?” And pushing their legs into their horses’ side, Childermass and Strange rode out of Hannoversquare and left London, heading in the direction of the nearby forest.

 


	2. Ice Water

If one follows the main road out of London in northern direction after roughly 5, 9 miles, one reaches a large, colourful forest, which contains of many kinds of trees: Oaks, chestnuts, maples, birches and beeches. Their leaves drown the sunlight and cause a beautiful pattern of warm, brown shadows on the floor, intermingling with bushes and the roots of the trees. A warm breeze carries the smell of wild flowers and the air is filled with the cheerping of birds and a rustle in the leaves.

It was this forest John Childermass and Jonathan Strange were riding towards. The hooves of Brewer and Felix left dark prints on the sandy road, which immediately disappeared once they had passed. The swinging of their hips, the well ordered moves of their legs caused both riders to gently whip back and forth in their saddles. However Childermass and Strange easily balanced the trot the two stallions walked out and lead the horses with a secure and gentle hand.

They had left London about one and half an hour ago. Now both riders were moving up the hill towards the forest. It was still a couple of miles, but not something that could not be covered quickly. Jonathan thoughtfully eyed the forest as they rode side by side. He threw a side glance at Childermass: dark, intimidating and for some reason he even seemed to sulk around when he was riding.

Jonathan had an idea however he was not sure how well it would be received. The Second Magician of England was younger then Childermass. Maybe not much, but still the age gap was there. Still Jonathan found now was the perfect time to try out his idea.  _ Get some energy in this ride. _

The magician slowly leaned forwards in his saddle and took hold of the reigns, ready to let lose. Gazing at Childermass, Jonathan asked: “Want to have a little race, Mr. Childermass? Up the hill to the forest? The street is clear and I am sure a short sprint will be nice for the horses.” Apart _ from that it would be great sport for me. _

Childermass gave Strange a look that was hard to read. Was it disapproval? Annoyance? Then a short, almost cheeky smile flickered around the Yorkshireman’s lips and before Jonathan had time to get what had happened, Childermass set spurs to his horse and Brewer, throwing his head and nickering, raced forwards.

_ Okay. That was unexpected. _ Jonathan gazed at the sprinting horse for a few seconds, completely in disbelief at this action. Then the young man remembered that he had purposed this race and he intended to win it. Giving the white stallion some reigns, Jonathan pressed his legs in Felix’ side and with a great leap the stallion fell in a full gallop.

The horse’s hoof flew over the ground. Its back stretched and moved. Jonathan bent down, until his chin almost graced the white mane. He could hear Felix snort and feel the large chest expand as the stallion inhaled more air to keep up. The thundering of the hooves drowned everything else. Jonathan felt the wind in his face and the muscles work through the saddle. If he could fly? There had been a time where he had believed just that. Where the horse had become the living manifestation of freedom. He had dreamed Felix would grow a pair of large, majestic eagle wings like one of the mythic pegasi and the stallion would take Jonathan away. Far away from his father, who eyed him with contempt. Far away from expectations he simply could not fullfill. Far away from the misery. After his mother’s death he sometimes even wished Felix could take him away from his grief.

Jonathan finally had managed to close in to Childermass. He watched the other one ride his horse. Brewer was heavier built and looked less majestic in his sprint. And yet there was something about this ugly, black horse, which carried his cloaked rider, who had the top hat deep in his face, black locks flying against his cheeks and neck. The manifestation of a highland man. Wild and romantic. Adventure as a constant partner on the saddle.

Jonathan smiled at this thought. Childermass caught his gaze and smiled as well. Both riders now were head-to-head. Their horses, black and white, ran up the hill. The trees already came in vision. Now it was only the question of a few steps, a few heartbeats before they had reached their goal.

Jonathan grinned and his eyes flashed in determination.  _ Come on! Just a bit faster. _ He pressed his flanks into Felix’ side. The stallion whinnied as he speeded up. Finally horse and rider brushed passed the first few trees.

“Hahaha, I win!”, called Jonathan in joy and slowed his stallion down. He halted by a large oak. Felix gasped and inhaled the air more deeply then before. The horse’s coat was heated, however he now seemed to be glad to have a break. His ears twitched and the eyes closed half.

“Yes, you do, Sir”, Childermass mused. He had slowed down Brewer as soon as Felix had raced passed the first trees. He now calmly and relaxed came out of the shadows of the trees and the branches closed behind him. The Yorkshireman petted Brewer’s back and smiled. “That was some nice enjoyment”, he murmured, “Although now I definitely need a break. And it seems I’m not the only one.”

Jonathan suggested: “There is a valley not far from here. It has an oak tree and a few flat, round stones, one which we can sit. Childermass merely nodded. Taking Brewer’s reigns he replied: “Lead the way, Mr. Strange.” The Second Magician of England nodded and turned around. They moved east and followed a small path, trampled into the moss and grass by many feet before them.

Passing between a few more trees, they reached the valley Jonathan had talked about. It was small and remote place. Most trees, surrounding its edge, were small and the branches slender and fragile. Thus the before mentioned oak was imposing and eye-catching. It stood in the middle of the valley, casting a wild, golden and grey patterned shadow on the grass. Before its roots laid two large, flat, oval, silvery-grey stones.

Childermass smiled benignly. “I must say”, he remarked, “This is a very beautiful place.” Both riders rode to the tree. Here Jonathan halted and swung himself of the saddle. He reached to his saddlebags and pulled out the wrapped up lunch packets, Arabella had made him. While he did so, John Childermass climbed off his horse as well. He carefully stretched his legs and sauntered over to one of the rocks.

When Jonathan turned, he found the Yorkshireman sitting on one of the stones. He was calmly searching through his long, black cloak and pulled out his pipe. Lighting it up with a match, Childermass slowly placed it in his mouth and puffed once or twice. During the entire situation his eyes were closed, his body leaned half forwards and he generally looked calm and quiet as if he was pondering over something Jonathan could not see.

Strange sat down on a stone opposite to him. He carefully began to unwrap his lunch. Arabella had made him two breads with two big chunks of cheese. She also had packed two apples. Even the water bottle was larger this time.

Jonathan carefully opened the bottle to take a sip. “Arabella packed more then I need”, he stated and pretended to look surprised, “I can hardly eat this all on my own. Do you want to have something, Childermass?” The Yorkshireman opened his closed eyes. The black orbs rolled in their caves and focussed upon the offered food. Holding his pipe in one hand, Childermass responded: “I would be impolite to decline such an offer.”

He reached forwards and took one bread, cheese and an apple. “Although”, Childermass murmured and gave Jonathan a lopsided smile, “I wonder who came up with this idea.” A bite from the cheese. “Maybe she did it on purpose. Or because a certain someone inspired her to do it.” Jonathan played offended. “What? You believe I asked her to do this? You think I planned this?” He shook his head. “Nonsense, Mr. Childermass!”

The Yorkshireman rose his brows. “Of course.” He now took a bite from the bread. The apple remained untouched in his lab. For a short moment both men were silent, eating and enjoying each other’s company. Jonathan felt that his move had been very smart. It had been a long time since he had someone to join him on his rides. And there was something calming and comforting about the dark man’s presence.

“Can I ask you something?”, Jonathan broke the silence after a while. He was handing Childermass the water bottle. Both had eaten their bread and cheese (and in Strange’s case the apple as well). John took a sip of the water, before he turned to the magician with his curly, red shaded, brown hair. “What is it, Mr. Strange?”, he asked.

“What are your thoughts on the Raven King?”, asked Jonathan bluntly, “I mean, I know Norrell’s view. He despises the king. I have no idea why. I mean, does not all English magic come from him? But that is not my point. My question is: Do you share your master’s view? Or do you have a different opinion? And Childermass, do not act like you know nothing about the subject! I saw you handle your cards. In some ways you are a magician as well. Just not as well and broad as me.”

There was a twitch in Childermass’ face near the brows and the lips. Was it a scolding? Was it anger? Whatever it was, it was a fleeing move and could easily be missed. Taking another sip from the bottle, the Yorkshireman let his gaze wander around. He then picked up his pipe and pulled at it. Blowing out a white cloud of smoke, Childermass watched it disappear into thine air.

Only then did he grace Jonathan’s question with an answer: “I am a northern Englishman, Mr. Strange. Thus the belief in the Raven King is a deep part of my roots. I think his magic is not just the answer to everything, however it should not be ignored either. It is a part of England, Mr. Strange. The plants breath it, it dances in the sky, animals speak it. It is not dead. People just no longer care to listen to it or try to understand it.” Childermass took another pull at his pipe. “My mother told me all sorts of stories when I grew up: Fairy tales, folklores. They all told me of their laws and concepts. And they told me about the world in a forgotten way, in another language.”

Childermass handed Jonathan the water bottle back. He stated: “I am sure you are aware of all the sayings we have surrounding the Raven King. Thus it is no surprise if I say that nothing would bring me greater pleasure then that my king should come home.” Jonathan smiled in a mixture of sadness, uncertainty and disbelief. While he did believe in the Raven King’s magic and saw it as the only right magic, the magic that should be used due to what it could accomplish, he was a bit uncertain about the Raven King as a person himself. Could he return? And if so how? Jonathan felt a certain urgency in himself like a child counting the days down to Christmas. If he could ever lay eyes on this mystical, legendary king, he would be the happiest man on earth.

Jonathan replied: “I agree with you. The magic of the Raven King must be the key to our work if we ever want to bring back the magic of the golden ages. I just do not understand why Norrel is so reluctant about this fact. I mean he treats the Raven King like he is a poisonous snake.” Strange leaned forwards, fingers crossed. “I am wondering, has he ever told you why he is like that?”

Childermass blinked. For a brief moment it seemed like he was pondering over what answer he should give. Looking away, the man finally gave Jonathan a wry smile. “Mr. Strange”, he responded, “Mr. Norrell has his reasons for what he does. He does not always share these reasons with me. And he does not have to. I am servant, not just an advisor. If my master chooses not to share information with me, I have no right to inquire why.”

Jonathan frowned.  _ Well, that backfired. _ He had hoped John could tell him a few things Norrell refused to mention. However Childermass had rather cunningly evaded his question. And Strange knew one thing: He could dare many things, but try to get an answer from John Childermass without him wanting it was as fruitless as rolling a millstone over a hill with your bare hands.

Childermass grunted as he pushed himself off the ground. Extinguishing his pipe, he softly patted Jonathan’s shoulder and mused: “Now come, Mr. Strange. I think we rested long enough. Weren’t we supposed to follow the river’s stream?”

***

Ten minutes later the flow of the river shined through the trees like silver. It was a long line, the water fumed and hissed as it made its way through the woods, jumping over stones. The noises drowned the chirps of the birds and even the snorting of the horses sounded quieter.

Jonathan Strange and Childermass were slowly following the shore. The sound of the horse’s hooves were almost drowned by the loud roaring of the water as it swept alongside them. Jonathan stated: “I did not expected the river to be this full. It seems like it has passed over the shore.” Childermass replied: “It is thaw. This is to be expected.”

They had not come very far when Brewer suddenly threw up his head. The black stallion snorted warningly and refused to move. He was panting and his ears were peaked up. Childermass immediately became worried. “Brewer?”, he asked quietly. His horse snorted and whinnied. It seemed like it wanted to get away.

Childermass’ look fell on the ground and he immediately counted two and two together. “Jonathan!”, he shouted and angrily rode against Felix, forcing the horse to stagger away from the river, “Move it, move it!” “Childermass, what -?” Jonathan was startled. As Brewer too tried to get on the safer ground, the shore under his hooves broke. The water had turned the earth muddy and slippery, not able to carry such weight.

Childermass’ eyes widened in shock and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Brewer’s neck. The man clung to the horse’s mane.  _ No!  _ Jonathan tried to catch his bridle and pull him into safety, but under loud cracks and growls the ground gave away. Brewer whined and Childermass was shouting, and Jonathan too heard himself shouting as he saw horse and rider fall into the river.

“No, no!” Jonathan pressed his legs against Felix side. His horse was buckling, before it reached the river’s shore, carefully trying to avoid the treacherous ground. Jonathan shielded his eyes with his hand as he gazed at the fuming water of the stream. Where was Childermass? He could not be dead! Norrell would go insane with anger when he learned of this. 

Jonathan could curse himself for his foolishness. Why had he rode so close to the river’s shore? Lucas had warned him that the thaw was dangerous. Even Childermass had noticed the danger. He had made sure that Strange did not fall into the river too.  _ That does not make it any better, Jonathan! He saved your life. Dear God, where is he? _

At that moment Jonathan spotted Brewer’s black neck burst through the water’s surface. It was followed by the horse’s back. Childermass, a tall and soaken, black figure followed instantly. He seemed to sit firm in the saddle, still aware and was trying to get Brewer to swim towards the shore. His grip was steady and sharp and Jonathan believed he was talking with the horse even.

Brewer was doing his best in the fight against the water. His legs moved, his body cut through the waves. He panted and snorted. But he kept drifting away. The stream was too strong. Childermass’ face was white in the fuming, blue water, the waves crushing over him and his stallion again and again.

_ They are never going to make it out on their own! I have to do something. _ Jonathan looked around in panic. There had to be something he could do. Some spell! Some object in the environment! Maybe a tree branch, to which Childermass could cling. No! That would not be enough. At that moment Jonathan spotted a rock by the shore downstream.

“Come on, Felix”, Jonathan breathed as he set spurs to his horse, “We have to be faster then the river.” Felix whined, before he took a great leap. His hooves thundered over the mossy ground, small branches snapping under the weight. Jonathan leaned forwards deep in the saddle, until he was almost on the horse’s neck. His brows were furrowed in concentration.

Trees, flying by. The river by his side. Its roaring was mocking him as it claimed its prey, not wanting to let it go. Jonathan’s eyes darted from his destination, the rock at the shore, to Childermass and back to the rock again and again. His heart pumped in his chest. Panic breathed in his neck. He had gotten a taste of fear in Peninsula. He knew how death looked like. Rest in peace. For him this phrase now bore a sarcastic irony. Death was not peaceful. It was not nice. Not in war. It filled Strange with absolute dread as he tried to picture how a drowned Childermass would look like. He had to stop this!

Childermass and Brewer were still fighting in the river’s waves for their lives. The Yorkshireman could hardly inhale a gust of air without getting spray in his face and lungs. He had to blink. The water was everywhere. Its roaring sound filled his ears, trying to rid him of any orientation. Where was the shore? It was hard to say. Childermass pushed at Brewer’s reigns. He could feel the horse’s hooves scratch over the rocks underwater. Brewer was panting. His brown eyes were wide and he tried to bring himself and his master to safety. But John knew alone they had no chance.  _ Whatever you plan, Jonathan, do it fast! _

Jonathan bust out of the forest. He had managed to get Felix in a speed that allowed them a minimum head start. Now horse and rider sprinted to the rock that stood half in the river and was safely connected with the shore. Jonathan choked the speed. The stone could be slippery and he did not want the stallion to trip and fall.

Spray everywhere. The wind pulled at his cloak and the stallion’s mane. Jonathan casted a look at the river stream. Childermass and Brewer were coming towards the rock. He had to hurry up!  _ This better works! _ Jumping down the horseback, Strange walked over the rock to its tip. There he bent down and thrusted his hands into the water.

Jonathan closed his eyes. He did not even know what he was mumbling. What spell he was casting. It felt a lot like the situation with the sand horses or his charm to hide objects in a mirror. He was simply allowing the magic to do what was right. It was odd how Norrell always believed spells had to be prepared. In desperate situations, in battle, Jonathan had learned that he had no time to properly prepare a spell. He had to do things in the blink of an eye. Maybe that was how the magic should. Freely and just following the emotions, knowing deep down what results its caster desired.

Whatever Jonathan was doing right now, it seemed to have some effect. He could hear a new sound over the roaring of the water. A crunching and cracking noise. It was slowly replacing the roaring, making the river oddly silent. The water felt colder.

Jonathan opened his eyes. His jaw dropped.  _ How did I even do that? _ Parts of the entire river were frozen. A solid plate of ice laid on the water and safely stopped Childermass and Brewer from getting washed away further. The horse was panting nervously and the Yorkshireman looked mildly surprised, probably still too much caught in shock.

Jonathan shook his head to get his amazement and confusion calm down. Childermass and Brewer still had to get out of the river. Strange carefully stepped onto the ice. It felt solid under his feet. The young man carefully walked over to Childermass. He grabbed Brewer’s bridle. Both men carefully encouraged the horse to climb on the cold surface.

Childermass, clothes dripping wet, softly clapped Brewer on the neck. “Good boy”, he muttered, “Now come.” Both slowly and a bit unsteady made their way to the shore. As soon as Jonathan, Childermass, Brewer and Felix were out of danger, the river crushed the ice and washed it away.

“That was close”, panted Strange, “Way too close.” The man whipped sweat from his forehead, together with a few strands of red brown locks. Now that the danger was over, his heart and breath had time to calm down. Still Jonathan felt like someone had stolen his bones and his body now was a limb pudding mass. He could just collapse and sleep.

John Childermass half leaned on Brewer. He looked equally exhausted. His clothes were dripping wet, the hair hung like strands of fabric from his head. He was shivering, trembling in the cold air. Jonathan had heard that Childermass was very indifferent to the cold, but right now he doubted it. Brewer was equally wet, eyes still wide. The horse’s legs shook.

Childermass groaned and rolled his eyes. “We should return back to Hannoversquare”, he stated, “Mr. Norrell will be wondering where we are.” “What?”, Jonathan asked baffled. When the other one tried to turn his horse, Jonathan rode up to him and grabbed Brewer’s reigns. “Childermass!”, he called, “It is far too late! It will be dark when we return home. Moreover, you are wet to the bone. You will get a cold.”

“Mr. Strange...”, Childermass tried to argue. “No, Mr. Childermass!”, responded the Second Magician, “You listen to me now. I do not care if you believe you are okay. You will clearly not be if you now ride home in the middle of the night. You need a warm fire to dry down and calm down. You need a warm bed. We cannot get to Hannoversquare right now. I know a pub not far from here. There we will stay for the night. And don’t you even dare to argue with me about this!”

 


	3. White Sea

The pub Jonathan referred to laid in a valley about half a mile away from the river. It could be reached by a sandy road, which lead through the forest. The house nestled at the edges of three large, old pine. Their branches hung deep, shrouded in fog. A cold wind came from the river and tousled Jonathan’s cloak and Childermass’ coat.

The Yorkshireman and the horse were both dark from the water they had fallen into. It kept dropping down from strands of black hair and Brewer batted his eyes every now and then. Both were exhausted, their moves slow and unsteady. While Childermass tried to hold himself up, Jonathan could see that the Yorkshireman was inches away from slipping down the saddle or landing on the horse’s neck.

The Second Magician had taken Brewer’s reigns with one hand and was leading him besides Felix. Childermass had protested at the start, but now he was silent and allowed Jonathan to do what he believed right. The intimidating figure looked more like a wet, doused poodle then everything else. He probably even felt like that.

The pub was a small building. Brown, wooden roof, fair red walls and dark curtains before a few small windows, which glasses were thick and milky. A dull, orange glow welcomed both men as they halted the horses. The muffled sound of laughter and chatting. The sun had already set and the moon was now drifting above them, swimming between a few clouds.

After helping Childermass down the horse, Jonathan pretty much kicked the door in and marched into the middle of the pub. There were five tables and a bar, at which the barman was cleaning a few glasses. The room was lit by the flickery candle of a lantern, which hung from the celling at an iron chain. There were few people in the room, all worn down and battered from their travels.

They looked up when Jonathan appeared in the room with Childermass in tow. Dozens of eyes, young and old, made their judgement. Jonathan was certain: He was the peacock in the room right now. His clothes were far too elegantly tailored for a simple traveller, the dark brown, slightly blue tone of his coat had a noble touch and his boots were too high. Compared to him Childermass must look like a dirty, almost drowned duckling.

Jonathan’s assumption was right, because instantly the people started to whisper. Eyes moved around, gazing the newcomers up and down wearily. The bartender placed his glass down. Someone pointed at Childermass and leaned over to a friend to whisper something. They were in the centre of attention in a negative way.

_ Well, seems like I have to do everything myself. _ Jonathan plastered a genuine, welcoming smile on his face and clapped his hands. “Gentlemen, my name is Jonathan Strange and the fellow, accompanying me is John Childermass, the man-of-business of Mr. Norrell. We would like to rent a room for the night and…”

Jonathan was cut short promptly, because voices rose. “Mr. Strange?” “Jonathan Strange?  _ The _ Jonathan Strange?” “The war hero?” “The Magician of the Peninsula?” Childermass’ eyes rolled in his face, gazing at Jonathan, who had become a bit flustered. The Second Magician groaned and rolled his head upwards. “Yes”, he exclaimed, “I am  _ the _ Jonathan Strange, who was at the Peninsula. You can stop whispering my name. I appreciate the fact that you recognise it. But please stop whispering my name. It’s awkward.” He waved a hand.

A small, wirily woman approached them from the bar. She had frill, red hair and wore a long, brown dress. “Mr. Strange, what an honour to make your acquaintance.” She took Jonathan’s hand in a very firm grip and shook it so wildly that the poor man wondered if he would feel his arm afterwards. “Of course we can give you and your companion a nice room. With a fire I presume.” Her eyes drifted to Childermass and she pouted. “The poor sod is wet to the bone. But do not worry. We will patch him up for you. A good blanket, a warm fire and a nice, full glass of hot brandy can do wonder to the soul, Mr. Strange.”

She let go of his hand. Jonathan winced for his fingers felt like they had been broken in that shake. He kneaded his hand and smiled a lopsided grin, eyes narrowed. “Thanks”, he said stretched, “Thanks, Mrs. I appreciate that. It will cost something I presume.” He slowly searched through his cloak and pulled out his purse.

Clipping it open, Jonathan rampaged through the purse’s depths, a sea of fuzz, chits and coins. It took him some time to get them all in his hand. It wasn’t much. Handing it the bar owner’s wife (for she obviously was that), he stated: “If it is not enough, Mrs., I can pay more later.”

Childermass now too rose his voice: “Somebody has to take care of my horse. Dry it. It will catch its death otherwise.” The bar owner nodded. “Sure, Mr. Childermass. We shall fetch a blanket for it, dry it and give it a nice, warm mush. That’s if it is agreeable for you.” Childermass cocked his head. “As long as you tell me what goes into that mush.” “Of course.” The woman waved them towards the staircase. “Now come along. I’ll show you to your room, gentlemen.”

***

Jonathan had supervised the stable boy as he had lead the horses into the small renting stable. It was not that he mistrusted the people, however he wanted to make sure that Brewer and Felix were treated well. Aside from that he had wanted to give Childermass some time for himself in the room they had rented. The bar owner had to lit the fire first and she had stated that it always took some time before it was warm enough.

Strange now walked upstairs and approached the room. Outside it had been chilly and cold. While spring was reigning the day, the night still had traces of winter in it. And Jonathan would be lieing if he said he was not exhausted. What a day! How could something as simple as a ride turn into such a nightmare?

_ All I now want is to curl myself up in bed and not move for the next five hours. _ Jonathan rubbed over his eyes and pushed the door open. “Dear God, Mr. Childermass, I am so...” The Second Magician froze as his gaze fell on the Yorkshireman. The room itself was nice and tidy. It contained a large bed, meant for two people. There was a small sink and a cupboard. On the opposite side of the window was a dark stone fireplace.

It was before said fireplace, where Childermass stood now. He had placed his coat, shirt and vest neatly folded on the chair besides him. On this bundle of clothing stood his cylinder and the gloves in it. But that was not the reason why Jonathan stared (and could clearly feel a hot, red wave of shame rush over his cheeks).

John Childermass was topless. He stood there, back to Mr. Strange. The fire, which now burned loudly in the chimney, lit up his stature. Childermass was a tall and haggard figure with very pale pink, almost white skin. The muscles on his flesh were not clearly visible, however they moved elegantly on back and neck. The play of orange light and shadows made the dark servant look even more handsome.

Jonathan’s cheeks flushed and his heartbeat quickened. He could not help but stare at John.  _ I am looking at a man, who’s bare on his chest. I am looking at a man, who’s bare on his chest. I am looking at a man, who’s bare on his chest… _ Parts of him wanted to slam the door before this scandalous sight and run a mile. Another part of him wanted to admire the man more and maybe even run a hand over this slender back.

“Could y’ please close the door, Mr. Strange?” Childermass’ voice was calm and raspy. He looked over his shoulder, arms crossing. “It’s getting cold. I ‘ad to dry m’ clothes, Sir. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” “Don’t be, Childermass!”, Jonathan said hastily. He shook his head, entered the room and closed the door quickly, “You had fallen into a river. You were freezing. It’s only natural that you want to dry your clothes and yourself.”

While he spoke, Jonathan moved through the room and tried to held a distance of one or two arm length from John at least. His eyes rolled around as he forced himself to look at anything but Childermass’ chest. That slender, fair chest, which slowly moved up and down as the Yorkshireman breathed. He was surprisingly thin without all his clothes. Yet Jonathan was certain: This man was strong and tough like a wirly dog. Yet despite the endurance that must have marked him Jonathan found the figure before him incredibly handsome. There was a certain elegance in all this roughness.

_ Jonathan Strange, stop this! Right now! _ He would have loved to smack his face for the fact how his thoughts spiralled down and into nasty ideas. Ideas that were not tolerated by the church. While Jonathan never was a big follower of the church’s teaching (in fact it had been Arabella, who had caused him to visit the church more frequently), he still was familiar with a few rules. Being attracted to another man was definitely against the rules. And yet he could not help it.

He wanted to be close to Childermass. Touch him. Kiss him. Whisper words in his ear. He had always envied Norrell of his servant. Childermass was loyal to such a length he had never seen. A servant was bound to the words of his master. Had Norrell ever make use of that? Used his position to his advantage? Who knew. Jonathan definitely would have made use of that situation if he had known sooner how good-looking this servant was.

Jonathan angrily shook his head. The red taint on his skin did not want to leave him. He massaged his neck and asked: “I understand entirely. You want to warm up. Of course. Is the fire warm? You are not cold so half-naked? What about your pair of trousers? It must have gotten wet as well. And what about your clothes? Will they be dried soon?” Any other time he could have asked all that without stammering. But now he found himself in a situation, where his eyes and the red in his skin betrayed him. Hell, even his voice was not playing along. He usually never stammered.

Childermass slowly turned around and crossed his arms before his chest. Jonathan was sort of glad that the other one was still wearing his trousers. The dark haired Yorkshireman responded in his raspy voice. “Yes, it is very warm. Though my trouser is almost dry, so do not worry.”

His gaze wandered over Jonathan, taking in his body language. The hint of a smile curled around his lips. “Mr. Strange”, murmured Childermass, “If this makes you uncomfortable, I can easily put my cloak back on.” He took a step forwards and reached forwards in an attempt to take the dark coat from the chair. “Wait!”, Jonathan shouted and the servant froze. His eyes darted towards Strange, who now stripped himself of his own cloak.

“Don’t use that cloak, Mr. Childermass”, called Jonathan and shook his head, “It must be all wet. You could catch a fever.” He offered John the piece of clothing. “Here. Take mine.” Childermass rose a brow. He eyed the cloak for a couple of minutes, before he slowly reached forwards and took the cloak with his hand. His fingers graced Jonathan’s in the movement and the Second Magician let go so fast of the cloak as if he feared he would burn himself.

They were standing inches away from each other. Jonathan could reach forwards and touch the other man’s chest. The thought caused the heat in his cheek to be set aflame again. His trousers felt like they became uncomfortably thick. What was wrong with him? Had he drink too much? He never had a situation like this!  _Get a grip upon yourself, Jonathan! Your actions are not those of a gentleman!_

Childermass slowly slipped into the reddish brown cloak. He brushed over the sleeve with his fingers. “Thanks, Mr. Strange”, he said, “That cloak feels very warm and nice. It must be of a very good fabric.” He dropped his arm. However the Yorkshireman did not close the coat. He slowly sat down by the fireplace again.

“Yes, it is cashmere.” Jonathan stood there and chewed on his lips. He had hoped that the fact that the other one now wore a cloak would make his arousal wear off. But his eyes had seen Childermass naked and that sight was hard to forget. In fact he found it odd how calm the other one had handled this odd conversation. Was he not embarrassed? 

Or maybe he was so ashamed that he did not want to admit that before Strange. Maybe he would tell Mr. Norrell once they came back that Jonathan was a bad pupil for he had gawked. Maybe he would pursue Norrell to remove Strange from his position as his pupil. He could easily do it. Maybe he would even go so far that he would tell everyone in London what Strange had done and then all would turn their backs on him and he could no longer walk the streets without the shame burning upon him. The thought scared Jonathan.

“Please, Sir”, Childermass quietly broke the silence, “Take a seat. You must be tired as well.” “Ehm, yes.” Stiff and very oddly moving like a duck, Jonathan manoeuvred himself over to the next chair and sat down. He tried to stay away from the fireplace so Mr. Childermass would not see the traitorous action in his trousers. He even crossed his legs forcefully in an attempt to make his member go limp again.

Childermass did not seem to see all this. His gaze was directed at the flames, the fire casting an orange glow on his face. “I’d like to thank you”, he continued, “You saved my life. That was very brave.” Jonathan laughed weakly and waved a hand. “Please”, he responded, “It was nothing, Sir. I just did what I felt was the right thing to do. Anyone else would have done the same. And I believe I must thank  _you_ , Mr. Childermass. You prevented me and Felix from falling into that river. You saved my life as well!”

Childermass rubbed over his nose. “It’s Brewer we have to thank for that”, he responded, “He noticed that the water had soaked the shore’s ground and made it unstable.” Jonathan sighed. He kneaded his hands and looked away in shame. “Yes, but we only came so close to the shore because I wanted to be there. I am sorry, Mr. Childermass. I brought you in terrible danger. That was foolish. And reckless. I am so stupid.” He hung his head, biting his lips.

Childermass slowly blinked. “Don’t be sorry”, he responded, “We should ‘ave known that the river path was treacherous them days. Though that spell y’ used was very impressive, Mr. Strange.” Jonathan blushed. He rose his hands. “I have no idea what I did”, he defended himself, “I was deadly afraid that I would lose you. I had to do something and act quick. I do not know what I was thinking when I did that spell. Probably nothing at all.” A grunt and huff from the other one’s side. Childermass simply nodded.

Silence spun itself between them again. Jonathan placed his hands back onto his legs. The action in his trouser sadly had not disappeared. In fact from his place in the shadows the Second Magician of England could clearly see the shimmer of white flesh between the fabrics of clothing. Why wasn’t Childermass closing the god damn cloak already?!

The Yorkshireman sat there, gaze rested upon the fireplace. He had crossed his legs over each other, a gesture Jonathan had never seen him do. On the other hand maybe Childermass’ usual servant’s clothes prevented him from getting relaxed. It almost seemed like the other one welcomed the fact that he was not wearing so much.

“Mr. Strange”, Childermass spoke after a while, “You are still uncomfortable. If y’ want me to leave the room so you can get rid of the problem, I have no problems doing that.” Jonathan gasped a tiny bit too loud. He stammered: “I...I don’t know what you are talking about, Sir. I have no p-problem.” He crossed his arms and shook his head viciously.

The Yorkshireman slowly turned around and gazed at Jonathan. He responded calmly: “Mr. Strange, I know that y’ are fighting with a very specific urge right now. I am not angry or ashamed of that or something. I understand it. We are all human and it lays in our nature to ‘ave these urges.” Jonathan countered: “We should have them towards women! We should not have them towards -”

He halted in the middle of his sentence.  _Wait a minute!_ Jonathan’s eyes widened. Childermass had stated that he understood the situation and that he was not ashamed of what was going on. Could it be? Strange knew the other man had very odd ways of bringing certain things across. He swallowed slowly and exhaled.

“Mr. Childermass”, Jonathan asked slowly, face scarlet, “Am I right with the assumption that you..ehm, prefer the other gender?” John Childermass slowly nodded. “I am equally drawn to men and women, Mr. Strange. Though it can happen that I ‘ave a preference for men.” His speech was calm and relaxed. It did not seem to be a big confession or deal for him.

Jonathan sat there and stared at the other one. He now made no attempts any longer to hide his erection. It was pointless by now. Childermass had known. Maybe he had even known it from the start. Moreover now that this confession was out a few things made sense in an eerie way. Childermass’ devotion to his work, the fact that he always was around Mr. Norrell, even when all he did was leaning against a wall, listening to the conversation going on. Could it be that John Childermass’ loyalty did not only come from a sense of duty but from love as well?

Jonathan exhaled slowly. “Are you not ashamed of it? I mean loving the other gender is sin, isn’t it?”, he asked. Childermass responded: “I do not think so. God created the humans, each in their own ways. I do not see any harm done by being attracted to another man. I don’t turn into the devil instantly by loving someone else. Besides I doubt you are truly normal either.” He nodded towards the tent in Jonathan’s trouser.

Jonathan sighed and cringed. “I don’t know how this happened, Sir”, responded the Second Magician, “Do not get me wrong. Arabella is the love of my life and always will be. I wouldn’t dream of cheating against her in any way. I could never do this. I do not know what it is I feel for you, Mr. Childermass. But I can assure you: It won’t get in the way of my marriage.”

Childermass laughed and it was this deep, hearty, bellowing laughter he made when he found something amusing. “I have no intentions in taking you from your wife or any other ill will”, he responded, “I do not even think that this confession should influence us in any way. Like I said, Mr. Strange, if you like to cleanse yourself, I can go outside.”

Jonathan eyed the tent in his trouser. A part of him wanted to agree with Childermass and send him out. But another part of him pictured the Yorkshireman kissing him, his fingers around his cock. And that voice sadly was very persuasive right now.  _Mr. Childermass does not see this as evil. You two are alone. No one will ever know._ And Jonathan sadly was always someone who bent the rules too much.

Jonathan gazed back at Childermass. “Mr. Childermass”, he asked, “could you keep a secret?” “I have more secrets in my head and heart then any men you have ever met”, replied Childermass and smiled. Strange bite his lips. “Could...could you then help me to get rid of this problem? And then forget that it even happened?”

The Yorkshireman slowly stood up. The cloak fell open and Jonathan could see his chest rise and fall gently. Childermass approached him and stopped. He bent down and laid a hand on Jonathan’s cheek. The servant’s fingers were covered in ink, dirt and felt a bit rough from work Strange did not know off. The hand slowly and carefully lifted his chin. Childermass’ wry, lopsided smile greeted him. “I can, Mr. Strange.”

The kiss was innocent. Almost like it was the first one. Childermass’ lips felt dry and the stubbles around his upper lip and cheeks tickled Jonathan’s skin. The Yorkshireman tasted of parchment, splattered ink, leaves in autumn’s breeze and the booze he drank in the evening. Jonathan was careful during the kiss. Almost as if he could not believe this was actually happening.

Childermass’ hand ran over Strange’s neck and cheek, cubbing it softly. He was standing above Jonathan. They both were off an equal hight and yet the Second Magician did not mind that he had to look up now. His hand carefully lifted itself and the fingers enclosed around Childermass’ wrist. He felt a warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach. The voice that cried _sin_ , _sin_ , _sin_ drifted far away. Maybe it was even the echo of someone else’s words.

Jonathan gasped and tried to pull himself up so Childermass would not be forced to lean down so much. Could he be more daring? They both slowly broke the kiss. Jonathan was panting. His fingers encoiled around John’s hands and his eyes were a bit wider. Childermass’ ragged, thunder black hair danced over his forehead. He looked so beautiful up close. The Yorkshireman smiled slowly. “Enjoying it?”, he breathed and from his voice alone Jonathan could tell that Norrell’s man-of-business had done something like this before, “Do you want to go further?”

The last phrase was said in a raspy purr, caressing his ear. Jonathan’s cheeks flushed. He smiled. The fact that Childermass encouraged him was good. It made him feel less flustered. In fact it made him become bold. “Absolutely, Sir.”

Strange wrapped his fingers around Childermass’ neck and pulled him down. He pressed his lips against the Yorkshireman’s with more force. A grunt escaped the other one’s lips. Shock? Pleasure? It was hard to tell. Jonathan could hear himself sigh. The magician felt like he was on fire. It was a new type of magic. Not modern magic. Not the Raven King’s magic. A magic, which had no allegiance.

Jonathan deepened the kiss. He carefully brushed over Childermass’ lips with his tongue, getting a taste. A gasp and groan escaped him when the other one parted his lips and his tongue graced Strange’s. The Second Magician opened his eyes and pushed back with an equal force. He was half standing up from the chair by now.

The feeling of their tongues, grinding against each other, was incredible. It differed from the kiss he and Arabella gave each other. Sure, they both had kissed with tongues before, but Arabella was a playful kisser. It sometimes felt like she was pranking him when they kissed, nipping at his lips, her tongue barely touching his. Her kiss even tasted different. Her kisses were like cherries in cold water, roses, the smell of chestnuts in her hair…

Childermass’ kiss was rougher and harsher. He was pulling with a force Jonathan had never experienced. He was stubborn, on the edge and kind of made Strange work for the kiss. He was as enduring as his horse. And yet under all this roughness, this force Jonathan could feel hints of softness and gentleness.

“Sit down”, groaned Childermass when Strange was about to get up, “Sit down, Mr. Strange.” Jonathan did not really sit down but rather slumped into the chair. He could feel John sit down on his lab. They did not break the kiss. Breaths on skin. Jonathan thought he could hear Childermass’ heartbeat now that they were so close.

The other one still had not closed his cloak. Could Jonathan dare it? Slowly and cautiously the Second Magician lifted a hand and laid it on Childermass’ chest. The flesh was warm and felt like thin and used parchment. Soft but also oddly fragile. Jonathan could feel the ribcage move up and down under Childermass’ breaths. It was like a white sea. Sometimes the waves were higher, sometimes they were slower and less rhythmically.

Jonathan slowly caressed the other one’s chest. His fingers trailed over the flesh, drawing circles. He could feel Childermass break the kiss and saw his eyes wander down, watching him work. Was there even a smile on his lips? “That feels very nice”, John whispered. Jonathan smirked proudly. He kept drawing the circles. He kind of enjoyed this. It reminded him of taking notes on parchment. Now Childermass was his empty page and Jonathan wrote on him with invisible ink.

He leaned down again and placed a kiss on Childermass’ chest, feeling the other one shudder. The moan that crept over his lips made Jonathan’s arousal harden even more. Giving John a bold look, Strange began to slowly lick over Childermass’ nipples, feeling them grow hard on his skin. He heard a gasp, a hiss and a groan. Fingers with dirty nails clawed themselves into his shoulder. “Don’t stop...”, panted Childermass.

Jonathan nodded and worked on the second nipple. He carefully bite into it, drawing blood. Muscles jumped under his touch and a hoarse cry followed. Rising again, Strange was caught of guard when Childermass turned his head and began to place kisses on the magician’s neck, nipping at the skin. It felt so good. They were not really testing the water, but completing each other. Like two cats, that laid coiled up in a box, cleaning each other’s coat.

As Childermass kept kissing his neck, his hand slowly reached down and before Jonathan knew it skilled fingers with the speed only a thief could have had freed him of his trousers. His cock trembled in the cold nightair, hard and stiff. Strange gasped and stared into the flames. He felt hot and sticky.

His gasp reached a new note as Childermass wrapped his fingers around his member and began to message the sensitive flesh. They went up and down, drawing small circles and implied just enough pressure. Jonathan’s arousal hissed in his spine and he dug his fingers into the chair’s edge. Norrell’s man-of-business was sitting on his lab, hand on his best part, lips on his neck. It was like in his fantasies. It was better then in his imagination.

He was surprised by the silence that happened throughout the act. They were not talking. There was no need for communication. Somehow Childermass could read his body language and easily decipher what he wanted. And from small gestures like a smile, a chuckle, a sigh and the glimmer in his eyes, Jonathan could tell that the Yorkshireman was enjoying himself even though he said nothing at all.

Finally Childermass’ massage made Jonathan reach his climax. However before he could wet them both, the other one jumped down his lap and waited while Strange shook uncontrollably, a hoarse cry on his lips. “Oh, my god”, he panted and looked at Childermass, “That...that was incredible. Thanks.”

Only now did Childermass close his cloak. He ran through his hair with one hand. Gazing at Strange, a wry smile cracked upon his lips. “No problem, Sir. I presume this was the right you had in mind.” He slowly sauntered towards the bed to probably go to sleep. And Jonathan sat in the dark, red in the face, and pondered over the truth of Childermass’ words. Until he extinguished the candle.


End file.
